Flee
by Marowren
Summary: Knowledge is a terrible burden. Maven is the leader of a group of kids on the run from the people who, well, MADE them. They're far from normal, but Maven has a Gift. One that she never asked for. But there are others... Max leads another group, all kids in the same situation. None of them are normal... ON HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

**Flee**

The Beginning

It was happening.

I sat up in my cage and listened intently, my head cocked in the direction the noises were coming from. They sounded. . . like. . . a group of people. Soft, padding footsteps, hushed voices. And then there was a scream. I jumped. Or tried to. I was in no shape to be startled. I sagged instead.

_Another one,_ I thought. _Another kid, another cage. _I looked around in the dark at the sleeping figures of the others, the other kids who I knew were dreading the morning. Corliss stirred in the cage beside me. Wait. I squinted in the dark. There were shapes moving there. _No. No. Please, please, no. _The glass wall that separated us from the world drew open, bright light filling the room, so clean and white it was painful. Sunbursts raked my eyes, blinding me momentarily. The shapes I had seen before came closer, stepping into the room. Was it Them? They were coming for us again, like so many times before. . . No. They were. . . kids?

They gasped softly, looking around. My vision focused. A tall girl with long blond hair. Two tall boys, one dressed all in black. Strange. I frowned. A shorter boy with spikey blond hair, another girl, and another who could be the blond boy's sister. She was walking closer. She stopped in front of a cage a few down from mine, and the tall girl with blond hair followed her. I watched them silently. _They're kids. What are they doing here? _I asked myself. As I watched, the tall girl put her hands on the smaller one's shoulders. The small girl sniffed, and wiped away a tiny, tiny tear. And then she locked eyes with me.

I took in a quick, sharp breath and shrank back into the shadows of my cage. She looked away and I let it out, just as a blinding pain stabbed through my head. I hissed, trying to keep quiet and refrain from swearing at the same time. I clutched at my head and curled into a ball in the corner of my cage. I could hear sounds, but I couldn't transfer them to words. A blinding white light exploded behind my eyelids. I saw everything. I felt everything. I _was_ everything, for a moment. And then the pain stopped, just as quickly as it had come. But I think what came next was actually worse.

_Hello, Maven._


	2. 1

Chapter 1

_MAVEN_

"Mav," Any whispered. She pronounced it "Maf," her mouth full of Cheerios. Bits of soggy cereal flew towards me. I held up the newspaper I was reading to act as a barrier between Any and I.

"Any, do you have any idea how absolutely disgusting and repulsive that is?" I asked.

"Yep."

"Well, as long as you know," I muttered, skimming the page in front of me. Another boring Tuesday. Tuesdays were possibly the most humdrum, drippy days in the entire existence of humdrum drippy days. As though it were proving my point, the morning sky outside the kitchen window was large, dry, and overcast. Ugh. I'm not really the best person to talk to in the mornings. You want cheerful, you go to Corliss.

"Mornin', people!" A cheerful voice said from behind me. Well, speak of the devil. I turned in my seat. She was standing in the doorway that led from the hallway to the kitchen, her dark brown bob already shining from 100 brush strokes in front of a mirror, neat and smooth thanks her best friend, The Straightening Iron. My own shoulder-length hair was wavy and seemed to always go off in the wrong direction no matter what I did with it. Her deep brown eyes were bright while mine were still half closed. She had a little grin on her face. I could feel myself scowling, and I tried to loosen my expression up when I saw her. Corliss always made me feel guilty about my appearance.

"Hi, Cory!" Any chirped, spewing more cereal across the table. Judging on the way her eyes shifted to me, it was on purpose.

I narrowed my eyes at her, then got up from my seat, scraping the legs of my chair against the floor. I felt incredibly cranky all the sudden.

"Bye." I said shortly, turning away from Any and brushing swiftly past my sister without a word.

"Good morning to you too!" Corliss called after me. _Can it, _I thought at her. I was starting to get a blinding headache. She shut up.

When I said "my sister" earlier? That would be Corliss. We're identical twins, and we don't always have to say everything for all to hear.


	3. Chapter 3

Corliss sat in silence after Maven left, chewing on her lower lip. She realized she was frowning and immediately stopped, registering the fact that too much frowning=wrinkles. Yes, frowning would be the end of her, she reflected, if Maven didn't do her in first.

Maven.

She was Corliss's best friend—no, more than that. They were _connected. _They were connected by a bond so strong that really nothing could break it. After all, they had been the same person once. Oh, but that wasn't to say they weren't different people _now. _Corliss would always be the optimist. She was perpetually happy. Maven, while not a total pessimist, refused to take the easy answer. She would dwell on one thing for _days, _worrying and wasting away in her own mind, which drove Corliss crazy. In Corliss's opinion, life was too short for dwelling. The world was always changing. She wanted to be there every moment.

Yes, they were very different people, despite the fact that they looked exactly the same. They were mirror-image twins, each a perfect reflection of the other. Maven wrote with her right hand, while Corliss was left-handed. Corliss's hair parted on the left, Maven's on the right.

They were connected and always would be.

Right?

But Corliss couldn't help but feel there was something _up _with Maven. Maybe it was the slight sag in her shoulders that let her know… Like Maven had the weight of the world pressed down against her. Her small frame seemed sharper, like maybe she wasn't eating enough, though Corliss knew that was impossible. She had seen Maven pack away enough to feed a baby rhinoceros for 3 weeks. God, she knew her so well. But she still felt… shut out, somehow. Like she was missing something.

God, talk about being connected! She was definitely channeling Maven. She needed to stop worrying. If something was really, truly wrong, Corliss would know. She _would. _

Corliss relaxed and tried her best to ignore the nagging feeling that ate away at her conscience, shaking her head to rid her mind of all thoughts concerning Maven and her weirdness. She could imitate her sister later. She had to live in the now. The world was always changing.

Yes.

**AN: So… I feel like I'm making the chapters too short. What do y'all think? Also, I'm trying to update once a week but it doesn't always work out. So sorry. **** I will get my act together soooon! Review and stuff. Thanks.**

**-Maro**


	4. Chapter 4

"Earth to Cory!" Any waved a yellow cereal box in front of Corliss's face, making her flinch. "Why do you look so sad?" Any grinned, showcasing the chewed-up cereal that was currently residing in her mouth. "Oh, I know. You need some _Cheer-_ios!"

Corliss rolled her eyes and groaned at what was probably the worst pun in the world, glancing at the staircase Maven had disappeared up. Then she mentally smacked herself upside the head. _Stop thinking about it, _She chided herself. She let her face relax.

"No, Any, I most certainly do not need any chemically processed carbs this early in the morning," Corliss replied, holding up a low-calorie breakfast smoothie. "Breakfast of champions!" Any stuck her finger in her mouth and gagged.

"Are we making fun of Corliss's breakfast rituals? How could you start without me?" Enter Rush. He grinned, leaning against the doorjamb, white teeth shining against dark skin. Corliss stuck out her tongue.

"Yup," Any replied. "Wanna join?"

"Join what?" Gray slouched into the kitchen.

"The 'Let's All Find Ways to Make Fun of Corliss' brigade!" Rush replied enthusiastically, almost taking out a chair with his arm-flinging. Gray started to say something, but was cut off by a long, drawn out, anguish-drenched

"AUUUGGHHH!" followed by a loud crash.

Everyone was totally and completely still, and silence dropped over the room like a blanket. Corliss glanced from one pale, confused face to the next, imagining that hers looked the same. She made a swiping motion across her left eyebrow, putting a finger to her lips, conveying in one signal that it was probably nothing but everyone should keep absolutely quiet. She started to tiptoe towards the bottom of the staircase, but stopped at the kitchen doorway when she heard loud thumping steps coming from upstairs. Leo appeared at the top of the staircase, looking tousled but completely calm. He made his way loudly down the stairs. Once he got to the bottom, he announced, "That was Maven, throwing a chair across the room." He turned to the shaken group in the kitchen. "Anyone have any idea why she's so upset?"


	5. Chapter 5

_MAVEN_

Pure. Anguish. I had gone upstairs (maybe stomped a little) to lie down and perhaps take an Ibuprofen for my now brain-splitting headache. And there I was, 15 minutes later, with both a terrible headache and a throbbing toe. _And _I was going to have to buy a new desk chair. But all this was _nothing _compared to the _voice in my head._

I had been scrabbling around in my nightstand drawer for the bottle of painkiller, barely able to see (hence the scrabbling) due to the freaking _vision loss _my headache was giving me. And all the sudden I heard,

_Maven. You're stronger than this._

As you can imagine, that sort of took me by surprise. "Waugh!" I shouted. My leg shot out and I whammed my foot against the nightstand. I hopped around, cursing. Unfortunately, since my sight had departed from my brain a few minutes ago, I tripped (of course) and landed on my butt. And, like Anne Boleyn, totally (and figuratively) totally lost my head.

_Maven._

"Ahh!"

_Maven._

"Ahh!" Then—wait. "Corliss, this isn't funny," I hissed, getting to my feet.

"What are you talking about?"

I snapped my head up. Leo stood in my doorway, his loose, light brown curls mussed. He yawned. I glared at him.

"I wasn't talking to you."

"Whoo! _Somebody _got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."

I stared at the floor, then looked back up at Leo, focusing on a spot just to the right of his head. "I stubbed my toe," I said softly. He raised an eyebrow. He knew there was something going on. He also knew that I didn't want to talk about it. Both he and I knew that if he tried to make me talk about it I would end up punching somebody. And I knew that he knew that I knew he was thinking these things. So, instead of asking me to pour my heart out, or telling me to suck whatever it was up and brush my hair for once, he said the one thing that he knew would drive me crazy.

"Let me know when you're ready to talk, Shrimp. And remember, _A person's a person no matter how small." _He smirked at my expression and turned to leave. Okay. I admit I may have over-reacted just a _teensy _bit in this next part, but suddenly it was all too much. I stomped across the room to my desk, grabbing my desk chair.

"AUUUGGHHH!" I yelled. Leo, who had gotten maybe three steps from the doorway, raced back and arrived just in time to see me hurl the chair across the room, slamming it into the opposite wall. It splintered, cracking the paint on the wall and leaving a dent. I turned slowly to Leo.

He looked totally shocked. We stared at each other for a few moments. "Well," he finally said, "I never really liked that chair much anyway."

I laughed weakly and flopped onto my bed.

"But seriously, Maven. I'm here to talk. Although I'm not entirely sure I can help you work through all your weird girly and teenage angst-y problems."

"Thanks for the support."

"I'm not kidding."

We were silent for a bit, until I said, "It's okay. I'm okay now."

"Are you telling me or yourself?"

I raised my head and glared at him.

"And we're back," he said, and grinned. He turned to leave.

"Leo."

He turned around again. "What?

"Do I look normal?"

"Why should you? You're not normal." He turned away and headed out of the room, walking down the hallway until he reached the stairs. I listened to him stomp on stair after stair until he reached the bottom, then heard soft voices from downstairs.

_He's right._

This wasn't Corliss. Now that I thought about it, Now that I really listened, it didn't feel like her at all. This was totally different. And totally scary. But the scariest thing was that both it (whatever "it" was) and Leo were right. It was true. I wasn't normal. I wasn't and never would be.


	6. Chapter 6

"So."

"A needle pulling thread."

Pause.

I ventured a glance from the pages of The Haunting of Hill House up at Leo. His expression was stony, which was, to be honest, really odd-looking. It was a rather uncommon look for him. However, he was glaring at me, which made everything seem more normal. I decided the best way to handle this would be to ignore him entirely. I went back to my book.

A few moments later, it was snatched out of my hands.

"Hey!" I yelled, grabbing for it a split second too slow. "Give it back!" Yeah, right. I would never find out what happened to Eleanor now. What an ass.

"We need to talk." Leo said, plopping himself down on one of the arms of my chair. I said nothing, concentrating on trying to burn a hole into his head with my eyes. Metaphorically speaking, of course. Unfortunately I lacked possession of that particular power. Yes, I said particular. I'll come back to that later.

"I don't really want to talk. To you."

"Ouch."

"Contrary to popular belief, there are _not _dozens of girls lined up outside waiting to talk to you about topics you find interesting. Meaning yourself."

"My ego shrinks with every word we exchange."

"Yeah, well, so does my IQ."

"Why do you read this stuff, anyways?" Leo asked, abruptly changing the subject. He held up my book.

"Because Nuggan told me to."

He rolled his eyes. This was the usual banter that went on between us, but I was having a hard time keeping up this morning. I was doing my best, but I just felt off. Hopefully he didn't realize there was something wrong. Hopefully none of the others knew. My refusal to tell them what was wrong had nothing to do with me worrying about them or wanting to protect them. I knew they would be fine with whatever was happening. It was about me not feeling like a total weenie. It was about self respect, really.

Actually, that last one was a total lie. It was partially about that and it was partially the fact that I just hate talking about stuff. It just seems unnecessary. And weenie-ish. I wasn't a robot or anything, I was just someone who doesn't particularly like interacting with people in any way that involved talking about feelings. Or hugging. Blech.

"But why read, for fun? And besides, you've read that, like, 17 times. What's the point of reading something if you already know the plot?"

This was typical, coming from Leo. In a parallel universe, he'd be a librarian or something. But here—he could NOT SIT STILL. EEEEVER. He wouldn't be able to understand how you can get lost in a book the way you can get lost in a mansion at 2 'o clock in the morning, searching for the 3rd floor bathroom in the dark. Nor would he be able to get how each time you read a book, something new jumps out at you and you understand it in a whole different way. How it's so easy to see things in a new light. And I wouldn't expect him to. Everybody's different. However, when so-called different person saunters up to my chair, invades my personal space, steals my book, and brings up the topic that I have been trying to avoid, I disregard all philosophy and patience and call them an ass.

"Y'know, you're kind of an ass." I said conversationally.

"Ah ah ah, labeling isn't nice, Mavie." He replied.

"Yes, but I'm making an exception in your case. Because you're so _special_. And anyway, you didn't saunter up to my chair, invade my personal space and steal my book to diss my favorite pastime." I left out the part about the topic I've been trying to avoid in the hopes that he'd drop it.

"I do not _saunter_."

"You do."

"I don't."

"Fine. You didn't _amble _up to my chair, invade my personal space and steal my book to diss my favorite pastime."

"I don't _amble _either."

"Well, what the hell do you want to do? Float?" He ignored me.

"Ambling implies that I am fat. I am _not _fat."

"Actually, we secretly replaced all your shirts with identical ones 3 sizes larger hoping you wouldn't notice. We were going to break it to you the easy way," He really wasn't fat. But he was an ass. I sighed. "But I guess the cat's out of the bag."

"Would you be serious for a moment?" Leo snapped. "I know something's wrong." I didn't say anything. "You've been moping around the house for 3 days now. Don't tell me there's nothing."

"There's nothing."

Leo threw up his hands. "For God's sake," he snapped. "Forget it." He got up and walked away. This scenario wasn't uncommon, but for the first time in years, maybe, after a spat I felt tears prick my eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

**I always, always ALWAYS forget to do the frickin' ANs. Every time. Except for that one time where I actually remembered. Because you totally care. Anyway, I just updated maybe 20 minutes ago and now I am doing it again. I have no reason. Except for the reason of WINTER BREAK AND NO SCHOOL TOMORROW…if that qualifies. Erm, enjoy.**

This may be the right time to explain some stuff to you.

After Leo and I had our spat, I picked up the book that had been yanked from my grasp a mere 10 minutes before and attempted to read it. I couldn't concentrate, so present-tense found me up a tree. Literally. I was perched on a thick branch 200 feet up, with nothing but me, the clouds, and my thoughts.

Well, my friend, there's a reason they say two is company and three is a crowd. And four is practically a parade.

_You should have listened to him, Maven. _Yeah. You have 3 tries to guess who was up there with me. And the clouds. And my thoughts. It was very crowded.

_Shoulda, coulda, woulda, _I thought. _Not. _I could practically hear the voice in my head sigh.

Okay. Pause. It's time for the stuff I mentioned before. Here we go. I'm going to dump it all on you at once. Let's see how you take it.

About a few…no, a couple…eh, I don't actually know (or care) months ago, we were being held captive in a place called the School. Any of you heard of it? I hope you haven't. It's pretty…I don't know, ghastly. Anyway, we were there. The School is a place where creepy Harvard graduates with nauseating, stomach-churning, unpalatable ideas (and senses of humor) go to die. Actually, not really. It's where they go to work. But the death factor there isn't lowered any.

Now that I have succeeded in totally mystifying you, I will tell you what they do at this place—what makes it so unspeakably…unspeakable.

The "scientists" who work there (live there, probably) kidnap children and experiment on them. There. I was having a hard time spitting that out, could you tell? And this is where my mention of "particular powers" comes in. Yes, they gave us…abilities, to say the least. No, I do not have X-ray vision. Or an uncontrollable desire to wear my underwear outside my clothes. But maybe that's coming. Because with the life we live, who the hell knows?

So just months ago, my… companions and I were at said School. Being tortured, all that jazz. Oh, great. I will be continuously singing Broadway show tunes for the rest of the day. Fabulous. Yeah, anyway, we escaped. We had help. I had no idea who would have felt obligated to help us and the entire population of the lab we were being kept in escape, but that's life for ya. I was incredibly grateful. But that didn't mean we were _free. _Oh, no. Faaar from it. Y'see, we weren't the only subjects of the experimentation that made it out in one piece. There were others. Oh yes.

We call them Erasers. If for some reason you would like a mental picture of them, just imagine…um, a werewolf. One second they're some handsome dude who's just walking down, eh, freakin' Eighth Street, or whatever, and the next they're a huge, morphed wolf who's trying to bite your head off. It's just kind of like, _make up your mind, _y'know? But whatever. The point is, the scientists at the School developed them, developed us, send 'em after us to round us up. Like sheep to the shepherd. Like a guilty man to the guillotine. It was pretty unnerving. You never knew when they would pop out.

So. Kind of a lot to take in? Or maybe you're just taking it in stride. Or maybe you don't believe me. I assure you, friend, that this is the truest story you will ever hear.

**I don't love this chapter. But I had to start with the backround telling sometime. I was totally avoiding it, and it was taking me forever to update because of that. I try not to criticize my work because, really, it makes me feel like a weenie. I must fight my weenie-ness. Reviews are super appreciated; it's really nice to actually KNOW people are reading my stuff. So please review! It helps me write :) Also, I am planning on adding Max's POV in the next few chapters, so yay. This story will be both Max and Maven-centric, which I'm sure you've already guessed. Wow. I will shut up now. Please review! Gracias. –Maro**


	8. Chapter 8

I sat up there in my tree for a long while. Partly because it was really nice, being (sort of) alone. And partly because I didn't want to have to talk to Leo. Or Corliss. Or anybody, really. One thing about me is that I'm really good at avoiding people. It's practically a hobby. I'm not a recluse or anything. I just prefer being alone to being…um, not alone. Corliss would call me an introvert. I really didn't appreciate the label, but it was as close to the truth as those things get. I guess.

Anyway, while I was up there, mostly alone, I thought. I thought about me and I thought about Corliss and the rest of our motley crew of mutants and I thought about how annoying Leo was. I was really just avoiding what I _needed _to be thinking about. I was avoiding the one thing that was causing all my problems.

_You can't keep running away. Life doesn't work like that._ The, uh, voice in my head said.

_Hmm, _I thought back noncommittally.

_You need to think about what you're going to do._

_Do? When? Are you going to give me advice that isn't totally abstruse? 'Cause three days of vague comments…I dunno how much more I can take, _I replied.

For those of you who are wondering why I'm not totally freaking out about this, I'm skipping over all the freaking out I did and all the idiotic thoughts I thought over the three days prior to the present tense of the story at this point. Yes, I had _now_ come to accept that there was indeed a voice of unknown origin in my head, but some things just need to be left out. I actually convinced myself that an alien parasite had implanted itself in my brain two days earlier. Enough said. Actually, one more thing. I know I said that this is the truest story you'll ever hear. What I said was true. But only because everything else in life isn't true. Yes, I'm sorry, maybe it's your birthday or something and I essentially just told you that everything you have ever known or loved is a lie. I apologize. But Freud said that nothing autobiographical is totally truthful, therefore nothing autobiographical should be fully believable. People _will _embellish. And people _will _lie. It's what makes us exactly that: people. But I promise, nothing that is here in this story, through my conscious mind's eye, is made up, or even embellished. It's 99.8% true. I can't do anything about my subconscious desire to not seem like a total idiot though, which is where the other .2% comes in. But when it comes to me being a total mess of a leader and Class A Dumbo, I draw the line. Nope, editing all the embarrassing comments out. Sorry. Just for this one thing, though. I promise. You'll get to see me embarrassing myself. Multiple times. Oh yes.

_Anyway. _The voice, which I had come to call Metis, didn't respond. (Heh, I found that ironic. Metis is originally supposed to give _helpful _advice. It's pretty safe to say that _my _Metis was not living up to it's name.) Ahh. Silence. Would it be wrong if I threw a party?

And then…stabbing, searing pain. It shot through my head and down through my body, and before I knew what was happening I was falling. 200 feet to the ground below. The white hot pain was burning me alive. I would die. I was going to die. _I'm going to die._

And something happened. Wings burst from my back, catching the air that whistled past my earls as I fell. I felt a new burst of pain, but it was different. It felt new. It felt hopeful. _Not today. Not today. _I struggled to regain control of myself over what was happening in my head. I couldn't see. _Itneedstostopitneedstostopohmygodohmygoditneedstostop_

I felt a flood of emotions, feelings, memories, rush through my system. They were mine. I felt dead only for a second until something new consumed me, and I felt _alive. _Every fiber was pulsing with life. I could feel it. More, more. It was like watching a movie. Pictures flooded through me. People and names and numbers I didn't know. Voices. Not mine. A girl's. It sounded familiar, somehow. I knew that voice. And the whole time, the pain.

Somehow, I landed. I folded in my wings and doubled over, collapsing in the cool grass. It had gotten much later. It felt as though a lifetime had passed. I clutched at my head, unable to think or scream or move any more. I was dead and alive. I was myself but everyone else, too. And then it all stopped. The pain left as quickly as it had come. The pictures running through my head had stopped. Now there was only one. Just one. It focused on a girl with dirty blond hair, who was looking off to the left of wherever the picture was being taken from. She was smiling, her brown eyes crinkling at the corners. Someone stood in the background, a younger girl with her hands folded serenely at her waist. She was looking directly into the camera.

My heart stopped. Hypothetically. I didn't need to look any longer to know what we, what _I, _had to do. My mind was clearer than it had ever been before. I needed to find them. Somehow I knew where we had to go. But the thing I was most sure of? These were the kids who helped us months ago. They were the kids who helped us escape from the School.

**Finish this sentence!**

**You know it's really late (or very, very early) when…**

**MY ANSWER: You try to spell the word 'ground' at least 7 different times before you finally get it right. ("Grownd? Grounde? Graond? OH MY GOD WHAT IS IT WHAT IS IT WHAT IS IT?!...oh.")**

**Well, yay. I'm gettin' the plot moving along! Merry Christmas you guys! Happy Chanukah! Happy everything you may celebrate! Max POV soon. Although I won't be updating 'till next week because I'm going skiing. YES! SNOW! Do you wanna build a snowman…? Possibly…? Anyway thanks for reading and PLEASE REVIEW! They really make my day. :) I also have a question that I'm hoping you will answer…**

**How would you describe Maven in 3 words?**

**Do your best. There's no right answer. But have you ever noticed how questions with no answer are the hardest ones to answer? Uh, I have. So yeah. Anyway. Enough blather. REVIEW! :D**

**-Maro**


	9. Chapter 9

"You're not listening!"

"Yes, I am."

"You're not!" Maven practically shouted. Corliss turned away from the mirror where she had been painstakingly applying mascara and looked at her sister. She looked furious, her eyes blazing.

"Okay," Corliss said carefully, "let's pretend I'm not listening. Could that _maybe _be because you sound like someone who's escaped from an insane asylum? Or someone who needs to be put there?" She turned back to the mirror, but watched Maven out of the corner of her eye.

"Das ist, warum Sie hören müssen."Maven said softly. Corliss put down the mascara.

"Okay," she said. "Okay. I'm listening."

**This was a teensy-weensy filler chapter. (Obviously.) Corliss and Maven will have their chat but it felt weird to have this chapter and that chapter together so…here it is! I'm sort of upset because I woke up really early. But then I thought, "Hey, might as well write, right?" Heh. Rhymes. **


	10. Chapter 10

Corliss was looking at me strangely. I couldn't blame her. I wanted to. I didn't want what was happening to me. And I knew what we were both thinking. We both were wondering, _why not both of us? _That was how it had been, ever since we were little. Both of us. We had the same dreams. If one of us fell, the other would feel it. Almost as though one couldn't exist without the other. But now I felt something that Corliss didn't. It was entirely new territory. And I was terrified. For once in our lives, we weren't completely and utterly connected. It felt like we had been detached somehow. It felt _wrong._

"I see things. I dream…I hear voices. When I'm awake," I drew in a breath. "And you don't." Corliss shook her head, but her eyes were bright with unshed tears.

"Sometimes you feel like you're awake when you dream. It doesn't mean that we're not—"

"—The same person?" I interrupted. "What about the headaches? You don't feel them, either. I would know."

"Headaches?" Corliss looked at me sharply. "You didn't say anything about headaches." Whoops.

"It doesn't matter. But even if I _feel _like I'm awake and I'm actually dreaming, you're not having the same dreams anymore. We're not—"

"—Yes, we are." Corliss said automatically.

"Then what did I see two hours ago?" I folded my arms over my chest, tears pricking my eyes. I could not cry. I would not cry.

"While you were out?" I nodded. Corliss hesitated. "I—I don't know. I was awake."

"So was I."

We stared at each other.

"This doesn't mean anything," Corliss said. "we're still _us. _Nothing's changed."

_But it has, _I thought, without really meaning to.

"Would you stop saying things like that?" Corliss cried, jumping up from the bed where we were sitting.

"I'm saying them because they're true!" I yelled, jumping up also. "Because maybe you just don't care about us like I do!" Corliss looked shocked, and hurt.

"Wie kannst du so etwas sagen?" She whispered.

"Warum sagst du es spielt keine Rolle?" I replied, my voice shaking. We stood there awhile, not speaking, arms crossed. Corliss dropped hers first.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I just can't—"

"Me neither," I said. Then, begrudgingly, "me too."

"Look, let's just put this to the side for now. We promised the kids dinner in town. It's almost six."

"Wait, when did that happen?"

"Probably while you were reading something."

I looked down at the floor and grunted. I looked up again and Corliss caught my eye, smirking. We burst out laughing.

"You're probably right."

And as we walked out of the bedroom and down the hall, joking and laughing hand in hand, and as we raced each other down the stairs and "accidentally" mowed Rush over, and as he dramatically threatened us with "Death By Eggbeater," everything seemed normal again. I only hoped it would last.

But these things never do, do they?

**Disclaimer, sort of: I would like to give a lot of credit for this chapter and the previous chapter to Jacqueline Mitchard, author of The Midnight Twins. The twins in her story are where I got the ideas for the twins in MY story, and there are definitely many similarities. I adapted her characters to fit my own story. So thank you Ms. Mitchard! The conversations that happened in this chapter and last chapter were adapted from The Midnight Twins as well. I don't believe in plagiarizing, but I do believe in Stealing Like an Artist. I never copy word for word, and I hope that I have adapted Ms. Mitchard's characters in such a way that honors her story, not defiles it. **

**And with that off my chest…hi! My little brother kept coming up to me as I was writing this, asking if I wanted to see his houses on Minecraft, which I don't like very much. Why? Well, I'll tell you. I had an account in 6****th**** Grade because it was "the cool thing" and EVERYONE had one. After about a week my avatar fell into a hole and I could not get him out. I actually tried digging **_**down **_**(to this day I have no idea why I thought that was a good idea) but just got myself more trapped. (Duh) I ended up just not playing anymore. I'm pretty sure my avatar guy is **_**still **_**in that hole, trapped there for eternity, because I never deleted the account. **

**Hence Minecraft holds no joy for me. :(**

**And that was my random spew for the day. Oh yeah: heartofglass99, it is indeed true that I don't like chocolate. I actually don't like vanilla either, so it's just kind of like: "WHERE DO I BELONG?! **

**And yes, NO SHOPPING! HALLELUJAH! :D**

**Okay, I am actually going now. See ya.**

**Maro**


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: It's Max time! It's Max time! It's Maxie Maxie Maxie Maxie Maaaax tiiiiime! I will shut up now.**

**Max POV**

"MAX!"

I jolted up in bed, a hand over my heart.

"Jesus!" I gasped, throwing the comforter off of me and kicking the sheets away. I was still groggy, but my senses hadn't dulled any, and I could smell smoke. _Perfect. Would it kill anyone to let me sleep later than 7 'o clock? _I swung my legs out of bed and stood. Then, stumbling slightly, I ran out of the bedroom.

I made my way down the stairs as fast as possible, which was, like, .5 seconds, though I don't like to brag. The air was much thicker downstairs, and as I approached the kitchen, gray clouds enveloped me. I gagged and held my tank top over my mouth and nose. Nudge was leaning over the stove, waving a dish towel around. There was a smoking pot in the sink. I groaned internally.

"Erm, hi, Max." Nudge coughed. I could see her eyes watering from where I was standing. I walked briskly over to the small kitchen window and pried it open, looking down into the pot in the sink. There were charred black clumps of what looked like had previously been bacon. The entire pot was black, and even I could tell it was ruined. Iggy would not be happy. Nudge's face was drenched in guilt. I grabbed another dish towel and waved it around. We flapped them in silence for a bit.

"What were you trying to do?" I asked, once most of the smoke had dissipated. "Burn the house down?" Nudge gave me a little grin.

"No, I was trying to make breakfast," she explained. "I got…uh, distracted." I sighed. Normally, if this were someone else, I would kick their butt. Mostly for waking me up two hours before arising was actually necessary. But this was Nudge, and yelling or kicking just didn't cut it.

"All right," I said. "It's no biggie. But you need you clean up and explain this to Iggy." She nodded silently. She knew it was fair. It's true that I rule with an iron fist, but it's a _fair _fist. God, that sounded a lot better in my head. But it was true. Whatever I said went, but most of the time, all my rules were fair.

The Gasman appeared at the bottom of the steps, looking rumpled. "Hey, what's going on? I smelled—" His eyes widened. "—smoke?"

"It's fine. It's all taken care of. No biggie," I repeated, ruffling his hair. It stuck straight up in the air after I took my hand away. Yup, it was Shower Day for everyone.

**And that is that, for now. I know, it's insanely short but I need SLEEEEP. I still have to study for a bunch of stuff that I will never use in real life. Pfft. High school. Since this was so short I hope to have another one up really soon. We'll see how it goes. :P **

**Please review! Love those reviews. **

**heartofglass99, I like soccer. I like…um, books. I like the non-color black. I like chicken shawarma. Just not chocolate. Or peas. Bleeechhh. ;)**

**Guest reviewer, yes, I did quit Minecraft because I fell into a hole. But you have to understand, there was NO POSSIBLE WAY OUT. Seriously. **

**Also, I am the least patient person in the world, so…yeah :)**

**See ya!**

**Maro**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hi there. I don't really know how to do this but I have lost inspiration for this particular story. I don't know why. I just kinda stopped writing it. I had this whole plan in my head but it never really happened, so I'm writing a new story and I would looooove for you to read it/follow it/review/yeah, because I have a feeling that it's gonna be around for awhile.**

**Yeah, that'd be great. Check it out! It's called Genesis, and it's the cliché "Max moves to somewhere and goes to high school and meets the Flock" plot. But I'm dumping my OC's from Flee in there, just to make it THAT MUCH AWESOMER. I'm unpredictable like that. **

**This isn't to say that I won't be writing on Flee anymore. Maybe I will when I'm, like, 40 years old. This has been fun, though, but I need a change, so I'm gonna go and write up the same exact plot in a slightly different story that's kinda exactly the same but without wings. **

**Ha. JK. It's totally different. **

**Alright, the late (early) hour is scrambling my brains and making me all confusing, so I'm going to leave before I can embarrass myself further. Bye.**

**~Maro~**


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